Step One
by tayburch
Summary: "I can help you, Elena. But you need to be certain you want my help." / Post 4x21. Stefan called Elijah to compel Elena's humanity on. When it's no longer necessary, he offers to help her deal with the emotional fallout of turning her humanity back on.


"You okay?" Damon asked apprehensively.

"No, I'm not okay. But I'll get better." Elena walked away, numb on the surface to the emotions roiling beneath the surface.

* * *

She sat on a couch back at the boarding house, bourbon in hand. She could hear Stefan and Damon arguing outside, about whether to leave her be or monitor her. She rolled her eyes, even as tears ran down her cheeks. She brushed them away with a groan of frustration. She could feel the switch right there, and had to resist the urge to turn it off again, to not have to confront everything rising in her. She tried to focus on one thing, as Stefan had told her earlier, but her hatred for Katherine as her touchstone wasn't working this time.

Damon had won the argument outside, she realized, when she was shaken out of her reverie by him placing a blanket around her shoulders.

"Hey, here you go. How you feeling?"

Elena scoffed. "You realize that flipping the switch is only the first step, and arguably the easier one? My brother is dead, Damon! I killed people, thanks to the sire bond that you manipulated. Did you think I was going to turn on my humanity and everything would be fine and dandy again?!" Her voice was cracking with emotion, everything boiling over and immense grief the flame.

Stefan stepped forward. "We are here for you, Elena. We care about you, and want to help you however we can."

A sob shook her body as she stood and went towards the fire. "You don't even know who I am anymore. You don't care about me. You care about this ideal picture you've built up in your head, both of you! I'm not that girl anymore. I'm ruined! I'm a monster! I've done—so many—" Her lungs grasped for air, her head becoming lightheaded from lack of oxygen. She rested her hands against the mantel, trying to take gasping breaths, wanting to collapse to the floor under the weight of it all.

Somebody—Damon, probably, who never knew when to back off—tried to pull her into his arms. Elena turned and pushed him away roughly, sending him sailing into the wall. "STOP IT. Just stop…" she finished weakly, falling to her knees finally. "I can't do this. I can't do this."

"Yes, you can, Elena."

Her head rose at the new voice.

"Elijah…"

"Who invited _you_?" Damon sneered.

"I did, Damon," Stefan cut in, "after she ran into him in Willoughby I thought about how he could compel her to turn her emotions back on. I asked him to come, in case tonight's plan didn't work."

Elijah ignored them, striding slowly over to Elena's position on the floor. She backed away across the floor, a fear in her eyes. "Elijah, I'm so sorry, I—"

"Elena." His voice cut sharply as he held out a hand to her. "Do you think I'm here to hurt you?"

Her face crumpled again and she shook her head violently. "I deserve it, I deserve it. What I said…Kol…"

This time his voice was sharper still, steel ringing through the air. "Elena, you _will _stand up, right now." In shock of his tone, she promptly took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled up. His eyes softened somewhat, and he turned to the brothers.

"I can help her. She's correct; the easy part is over, and the healing process is always…less complicated with assistance."

Damon scoffed. "What are you gonna do? Play doctor?"

Elijah smirked, as if at a joke only he knew. "Of sorts. But regardless, it's Elena's decision. It's her choice." He turned to her, her face still blotchy and wet.

"I can help you, Elena. But you need to be certain you want my help."

She nodded, shakily, uncertain of what his help would entail for this level of caution.

"A verbal yes, please."

"Yes. Please, I—"

Without breaking her gaze, Elijah said to Stefan and Damon, "Leave the house. Now." Damon started to protest, before Stefan grabbed his arm to lead him out. "We'll be back in a couple hours."

"Better make it the morning, perhaps."

Elena ached seeing the look Stefan gave her—_I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_—but she nodded that she was okay and they left, and she was _alone_.

She stared after them, watching the front door shut, watching the shut front door. When she finally turned her attention back to Elijah, meeting his eyes with some amount of trepidation, he spoke.

"Pick a safe word."

She paused, her eyes widening for a moment—_I trust him, I trust him_—before whispering the first obscure thing that came to mind. "Volleyball."

His mouth twisted into a beautiful dangerous smirk.

"Excellent."

With that, he took her by the arms and sped her into the wall, lowering his mouth to hers with punishing force, conquering, controlling.

Stunned, she didn't respond, and he just kissed her harder. It was nothing like the kiss they shared in Willoughby, but the same fire grew within her. _Yes_. Maybe this type of physical connection could be what she needed. She began to kiss him back, the force, emotion, passion within her growing. She was devoid of any conscious thought—all she knew was that she wanted this, she wanted him. Their lips clashed fiercely, her frantically trying to take what she needed, and him refusing to relinquish control.

Her hands travelled from his arms to his chest, upwards to grip his neck, his hair, anything to ground herself, but Elijah would have none of it. He growled—_Oh God_—and grabbed her arms, pinning them over her head with one hand. He bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood, a sharp admonishment. She pulled back with a gasp of pain and looked at him. His eyes narrowed, and he said nothing. She panted under the heat of his gaze, and after a moment of silent communication, that they had always excelled at, she nodded her understanding. This was about her escape, this was about her surrender. There was no room for control.

At her nod, he dived back in, their kisses raging, open-mouthed, void of technique but hot enough to start a fire in the middle of Siberia. She pulled her mouth away, gasping for unnecessary breaths. His mouth traveled down her throat, biting hard with dull teeth, leaving temporary marks along her jugular and the tops of her breasts. He shoved his knee between her thighs, and his mouth reunited with hers. Elena's mind could not function, could not fathom beyond the pleasure she knew was ahead of her. His control and authority was thrilling, and a relief. He was all-consuming, with no room leftover to contemplate anything else. She could let go, could be mindless, could lose herself in him. He would handle everything, starting with her. She ground against his thigh, a small bit of action he permitted, wanting, needing more.

Elijah quickly grew frustrated with her clothes, and let go of her arms to grab the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and throwing it away. Elena then made the mistake of dropping her arms from above her head, and was immediately startled when she was flipped around and pressed face first to the wall, both her hands behind her back in Elijah's impossibly strong grip.

"Now, now, Elena…who is in charge here?" She gasped, but didn't respond. He reached up, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and turned her face towards him. "Elena, who is in charge?" Robotically, she says, "You are, Elijah." He nuzzled at her throat. "And who is going to take care of you?" He reached around and through her bra, twisted her nipple roughly, garnering a thick moan. "You! You—ahh—you, Elijah." He chuckled almost sadistically before latching his mouth back onto her neck, biting hard with blunt teeth.

He stepped away from her abruptly and asked, "Which bedroom is yours?"

_Is this really happening?_ "Upstairs, end of the hall on the right." He picked her up and sped them there, setting her on the bed. He took a moment to look around the room, delighted by the large full body mirror in the corner.

"Get up." Elena stood, on shaky legs. Elijah approached her and knelt in front of her. He looked up at her as he unbuttoned her jeans, acutely aware of the way her breath caught. He pulled them down, helping her step out of them. Her arousal swept over him in a thick wave, and he had to remind himself to take things slow, deliberate. He walked over in front of the mirror, while she did not move at all. _She's learning._

"Come stand in front of me. Facing the mirror."

She slowly moved into position, and he could smell her nerves. He stepped closer to her, grabbing her hips and melding their bodies against each other. He ran his hands up her sides to her arms, bringing them up.

"Put them behind my neck. Don't move them."

He bit back a groan at the image reflected in the middle. Elena looked like heavenly sin in her black lace undergarments—_Has she always favored these, or is this a byproduct of her humanity loss?_—with her chest heaving, her back arched, her head resting on his shoulder, and her legs subconsciously spread, wanting. He ran his hands back down her body, flitting over her breasts, her stomach, and the fierce heat at the apex of her thighs. She whimpered when no touch lingered quite long enough. When she met his gaze in the mirror, she knew she was done for. He knew he was done for.

"I'm going to use this body tonight, Elena. I'm going to do whatever I want to it, with it."

She was nearly embarrassed by the liquid she could feel seeping out between her thighs at his words. She was suddenly glad he had asked her for a safe word. Despite the trust between them, the safe word helped fill the void of the trust that exists between two people in an established sexual relationship. Without the knowledge that she could stop all of this, his words now would make her nervous.

"You want me to, too, don't you? I can see your nipples hardening. I can see your throat swallowing. I can smell how wet your cunt is for me. You want to be used." He ran his hands over her body as he spoke, laying open-mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulders.

"I bet if I tore those panties off you right now, your slick would near run down your thighs. You want me to fuck you, for hours, like only I can." His voice lowered, huskier than before. "And I will, Elena. I will fuck you. And make no mistake, it will be fucking. Were your body still human, it would be sore, bruised, reminded of me every time you moved, every time you sat down…what a pity I didn't have you, then…I do love seeing my work."

He ran his hands back up to her breasts, using the softest of touches, delighting in how the change in sensation caused her breath to catch. Just as swift, he pulled down the lace cups of her bra and pinchedpulledtugged her nipples. Her fingers gripped tighter around his neck, in his hair. He continued his ministrations, increasing his roughness, testing her reactions. She found pleasure in the pain, in the sensation of blood rushing back to the tips of her breasts. She preened under the heat of his gaze—even in his attempts to maintain control, to be stoic, she could see his eyes get darker, feel his breathing get that much heavier. His mouth intermittently traveled up and down her neck, biting harshly wherever he could reach. She began to rock her hips back against him, urging his hands lower.

Finally he reached lower, giving her clit onetwothree hard rubs through her panties, shy of offering any meaningful satisfaction. She groaned at the tease, and he gave a devilish smirk again.

"What do you want, Elena?"

"Please," she whined, "touch me."

He dramatically splayed his hand across her stomach. "Am I not?"

"Elijah…"

He pulled her earlobe between his teeth. "Use your words."

"My pus—my cunt. Please touch my…my cunt." She closed her eyes, out of need and the embarrassment that not even her extreme arousal could cure. He rewarded her by kicking her stance wider and pulling her panties to the side. He didn't quite dip his fingers in, simply rubbed his fingers within her outer lips to spread her wetness all around, relishing in the sheer volume of lubricant her body had produced, glancing a few touches against her clit.

Both his hands went back to her waist, thumbing her smooth sides. Privately, he thought that he probably had never seen a more erotic sight. At the loss of his hands, her eyes cracked open again, and he could see the barest hint of brown beyond her heavily dilated pupils. Her lips were swollen and open, her body unable to contain its needs in any form of breathing besides heavy pants. Her bra was tucked below each breast, one strap falling down along her arm, her nipples still red and abused. Her arms remained tight around his neck—_what a good, good girl_. Her panties were pushed aside, her center pink and engorged and glistening. She looked thoroughly ravished…almost.

"Look at that, Elena. Look at that wanton slut thrusting against me, wanting my cock inside her." He lay a gentler kiss against her temple at his words, uncertain of how she would respond and wanting to temper them. Elena, however, moaned, and he smiled inside. Oh, how he would be the awakening of her. "Do you, Elena? Want my cock inside you?"

He began to circle her clit again. "Nghh! Yes! Yes I want your—ah!—cock in me! Elijah!"

He stopped as soon as he started and spun her around to face him.

"You will not come until I allow you to. If you cannot obey, I will compel you to, and I _will _take my pleasure of you until morning. Lay on the bed, face up."

After she got into position, she glanced down her body, and could not look away from Elijah undressing. She gulped when she noticed him place his tie—his _tie_, her cunt pulsed—separate from the rest of his clothes. His chest was dusted with hair and defined, not unlike what she expected, and his thighs muscular. His cock was perhaps slightly thicker than average, and rose proudly from amidst a thick bush. While Stefan had never garnered the same reaction, she bit her lip when she noticed he was uncut. _Duh, Elena, he was born a thousand years ago!_

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he removed his clothes, taking delight in noticing her scent get heavier. He grabbed his tie and climbed over her on the bed, kneeling over her stomach. "Raise your hands over your head." _Well this is becoming a recurring theme of the evening_, she thought, though not without feeling thrilled once again. He tied her hands to the headboard. "Are you comfortable?" She nodded. "Do you remember your safe word?" "Yes." For a moment, the sexual thoughts in her head were overtaken with affection, with contentment at being so taken care of by him.

He closed himself off emotionally at that, seeming to have noticed the direction her thoughts took and reminding himself of his purpose. He moved lower over her, falling into the cradle of her thighs. "Excellent. I'm going to fuck you now, Elena." He dived his head and took her mouth savagely, before pulling away with a tug to her bottom lip, this time a bite hard enough to draw blood. He caught her eyes as he brought one of her legs over his shoulder and thrust inside her with no warning. She gasped sharply, the intrusion still extreme despite how wet she was for him. He did not wait for her to adjust before setting a punishing pace. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, laving his tongue around and around, before digging his teeth in. As he took her, her pleasure grew, and she felt herself reaching for her peak, consciously trying to hold back lest she disappoint Elijah. She did not deserve to come, she had to be good. Perhaps sensing she was close, he changed positions, flipping her over quickly and pushing her head down, pulling her hips up and against him.

Her back was arched sharply, her upper body lying prone on the bed while her yet-tied arms reached towards the headboard. He pounded into her, his balls slapping against her. He bit along her shoulders, her back. His hands gripped her hips with bruising strength. Tears seeped out of her eyes, her mouth open in pleasure.

She lost herself in him, her mind blank, barely registering the series of positions he maneuvered her into, the words whispered, grunted in her ears, the rough touches he lay on her to keep her grounded. She didn't need to think, do anything besides float in the mind-numbing pleasure he was giving her.

"Elijah, I'm—" she panted frantically, afraid of the tension inside her about to snap without permission.

"No. You may not come."

Tears continued to slowly stream from her eyes unbidden, the physical evidence of the torrent of emotions within her. She tried to focus on anything—_anything_—to keep her orgasm from happening. Elijah slowed down his thrusts, providing the barest of assistance in not stimulating her too much. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and met him as he moved deep, long, slow, a whole new torture. She threw her head back as he started to move faster again—_please please please_—and gave three last hard thrusts as he came.

After he reached his peak, he climbed down her body and set to using his tongue to finish her. He pushed her legs far apart, holding them down hard enough that there surely would have been bruises if she were human, and feasted. He licked, sucked, bit, and when he could tell she was close, he stopped. Elena thrust her hips in protest, seeking contact.

Elijah watched her attempt to find friction, pressure, anything, her mouth open, eyes closed, head tilted back. He smiled cruelly, refusing to acquiesce, until she did what he wanted. Finally, she opened her eyes and with hooded lids, met his gaze. He set to work circling her clit at an excruciatingly unsatisfying pace.

He rubbed faster, before slowing back down, determined to tease, determined to show who was in charge of her pleasure.

"Please, I need—"

"Tell me, lovely Elena. Beg for it."

"I need something inside my cunt." It was said with a mewl, a helpless expression of being unable to do anything to relieve the tension.

He smirked dangerously, and there went any doubt that the man cradled between her thighs at that moment was one of the most dangerous predators walking the earth. She had pleased him, being so far gone that even that vulgarity did not cause her pause or embarrassment. He decided to reward her, inserting two, then three fingers, biting down his own moan at the pulse of her walls. Her eyes drifted shut again, her muscles tensing, her head shaking back and forth.

"'Lijah, please, I need more," she moaned.

"Look at me, lovely." She gazed down her body, feeling a pulse within her at the sight of him between her legs. He slowly and deliberately gave her one more long lick, his eyes never leaving hers, before gripping her leg and moving it to his shoulder. She gasped, in surprisewantfear, at the sight of the veins beneath his eyes as he turned his head towards her femoral artery. He paused, giving her a moment to decide, and knew with the moan, a heel pressing into his back, and the restless rotation of her hips, that her decision was made. "You may come."

He thrust his fingers faster, harder, and rubbed her clit with his other hand. He made sure her eyes stayed on his, as he bared his fangs, and bit.

Her body went taut against him, the bed, and the tie gripping her wrists as her climax hit. Her mouth opened in a silent scream before finally becoming an audible loud moan as her body relaxed into minute tremors. Elijah continued to rub, thrust, and drink, prolonging her orgasm through her attempts to push him away from her oversensitive clit.

He licked the bite on her thigh until it closed and reached up to untie her from the bed, knowing her full surrender was imminent.

Where she would have expected distance, he lowered himself beside her and pulled her in against his chest, laying a kiss upon her head when he started to hear her sniffles turn into sobs.

She buried her head against him, unable to stop the tide of emotions. Everything that had happened over the past couple months, flooded through her once more—her guilt, grief, disgust.

"Focus on me, Elena. Look at me." She felt the rumble of his chest and took deep breaths before looking up at him. He took her hand and placed it on his chest.

"Breathe with me." They stayed like that for what could have been forever—looking into each other's eyes, breathing in unison. Finally, she closed her eyes and lay her head down again, tears leaking out, listening to the slow rhythmic heartbeat below her ear to calm herself. _Thump thump. Thump thump_. His arm wrapped around her tighter.

* * *

Minutes, or hours went by.

"Elijah...I've never..." She trailed off, not quite sure how to put what just happened in words. Rough sex? Yes, but maybe more. BDSM? Not quite.

"I know. And you may never again." He lazily trailed his hand back and forth over her bare back, and seemed to be in contemplation over how to best explain what had just happened to her. "But you felt like you needed to be punished. This was one of the more harmless ways to get you past that masochistic hurdle so you could truly process everything that happened, and move on to the next step of healing."

She didn't know quite what to think about it. While her relationship status was as single as it could be with the Salvatore brothers in her life, she certainly never saw herself actually having sex with Elijah. She had thought about it, obviously, in the way women often imagine sex with attractive men around them, but what just happened between them reminded her that all too often with Elijah, she conveniently forgot that he was the same vampire that easily ripped out hearts and smacked heads off bodies. He just reminded her who he was.

Elena shivered at the thought. "I'll start the fire," Elijah said, getting out of bed with a delicious lack of concern for his nudity, as he walked towards her fireplace, turning off the overhead light on his way.

He crouched before the fire for a bit once it had caught, making sure all logs were ablaze.

Elena watched him, propped up on one hand. "Elijah? What _is_ the next step?"

He slowly stood, and she tried to ignore the twitch of his cock although she's certain she failed and that he noticed. He walks towards the bed and Elena could not help but gasp when he turned towards her. He looked beautiful, a dark angel in her bed, granting her salvation or stealing her soul, she's not sure.

Half of his face was cloaked with moonbeams, taunting her with its glow. Somehow, the ethereal gleam whispered and giggled about everything that has happened under its gaze; the deep, intense conversations; a one night stand it witnessed, peeking in through the windows; a tragic story of love, the characters forced to only see the other under night's scary, comforting blanket.

The other side was what fire would look like with a face. It showed passion. It showed warmth and comfort. It showed lust. It showed you that by its side was where you wanted to be when scared, when cold, on a rainy day when you want to be held close by somebody.

Together, these dangerous entities united in the bedroom. The leaping inferno, the frolicking glimmers of dark, Elijah…and me.

"The next step, lovely Elena, is to remind you of all that you deserve and more—the pleasure, the trust, the power, the respect, the love."

Elena reached out to him, caressing his jaw before sliding her hand up into his hair. She leaned in, paused millimeters away from him, before finally meeting his mouth with a slight smile curling her lips.


End file.
